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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628655">Cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime'>makesometime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Healing, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Resurrection, probably should have remembered THAT tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:22:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s aware that the heat of the fire should be warmer than it is. That the weight of the blankets over his shoulders should be protecting him from the chill of the air.</p><p>That doesn’t make it the case.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azu &amp; Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming), Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom &amp; Oscar Wilde, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan &amp; Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith &amp; Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotQuiteInsane/gifts">ChaosMidge (NotQuiteInsane)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <em>Day 4 - “To live is the rarest thing in the world.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Life | Death | Survival</strong>
</p><p>This is still, technically, canon-compliant, but was written before 176 released.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s aware that the heat of the fire should be warmer than it is. That the weight of the blankets over his shoulders should be protecting him from the chill of the air.</p><p>That doesn’t make it the case.</p><p>Since he awoke, peering blearily up at the concerned faces of several strangers, Cel, and Zolf, he’s not felt anything but cold. Even the press of Zolf’s hand to his chest, the slow spread of fingers over skin that was until moments before torn and bloody, didn’t make its way through.</p><p>He worries that it’s an indication that he’s not really here. That he’s some sort of ghoul, roaming a land that isn’t his anymore.</p><p>That he’s not really alive.</p><p>Azu comes by with a bowl of food for him, sits with him and gets him to talk about nothing for a few blessed moments. She asks if she can hug him, and he nods out an acquiescence that is chased by her arms around him for the first time. It is a wonderful hug.</p><p>He is still cold.</p><p>Cel is next, and he clutches their hands tight within his own as soon as they start to fidget, his fingers folding around their elegant, talented hands and trying to impart a sense of calm that he definitely isn’t feeling himself. They leave, if not satisfied, then somewhat reassured.</p><p>He is still cold.</p><p>Hamid is one of the warmest people he’s ever known, both in personality and in literal bodily warmth. Something about his heritage, Oscar assumes. When the halfling comes to him, tears still streaking down his cheeks in silent heartbreak, Oscar invites Hamid into a hug that is like embracing a furnace, and for a moment he thinks it might be enough. Eventually Hamid pulls back and swipes at his eyes, melting away towards Azu for further comfort.</p><p>He is still cold.</p><p>He doesn’t see Zolf until after dinner, though time has little meaning as he stares into the fire, watching it flicker and dance and trying to ignore the amount of eyes he can feel on him. Somehow, though, he finds himself keenly aware of where the dwarf is at every moment, the only sensation that makes him feel anything other than absolutely detached. Perhaps it’s the lingering hit of magic that Zolf channeled into him.</p><p>Oscar smiles a little at the clumsy justifications of his brain.</p><p>Perhaps.</p><p>There’s a huff of breath and a familiar whirr of legs as Zolf comes to sit next to him.</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>Oscar ducks his chin. “What a question.”</p><p>He sees Zolf’s frown in the corner of his vision. “Do you need more healing?”</p><p>He turns a little, trying to hide the half-full bowl of food from Zolf’s gaze. “I’m not sure that you can heal what’s wrong, Zolf.”</p><p>He startles at the curve of a palm over his forearm and looks up from the tattooed back of Zolf’s hand to find the dwarf has shifted closer, concern in those lovely green eyes of his. It’s not the first time they’ve found themselves like this, but it’s the first time he’s not wanted to make a joke to deflect.</p><p>“I can try.”</p><p>“I would not put it past you, Zolf.” He smiles, sliding his hand overtop Zolf’s own. “Perhaps all I need is a good night’s sleep.”</p><p>“Now I <em>know</em> something’s wrong.” Zolf says with a narrowed gaze. “When’s the last time you volunteered to go to sleep.”</p><p>Oscar pastes on a winning smile. “Probably before I died.”</p><p>“You can’t dine out on that forever.” Zolf mutters, looking down at their joined hands and exhaling heavily. “Oscar. It’s alright to not be alright.”</p><p>Oscar opens his mouth to reply, something sniping and insidious already forming on his tongue, but Zolf chooses that moment to channel some energy, the glow of it gentle and calming against the material of his borrowed jacket.</p><p>And it works. It chases away the chill that’s settled in the centre of his chest like a shard of ice got in there while they were healing him. It feels so much like relief that it starts the fall of tears from his eyes that he’s until now been concerned might never come again.</p><p>“Zolf...”</p><p>“You don’t have to suffer alone.” Zolf says, very quietly. Without adding anything to his assertion, he takes Oscar’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, dropping a kiss on the back. “We’re all here. We’re all gonna need each other in the coming struggles.”</p><p>Oscar nods mutely, not trusting his voice as the tears begin to fall.</p><p>“Come with me? Cel’s making tea.” He says gently. “Might warm you up.”</p><p>He doesn’t say he doesn’t need it anymore, simply allows Zolf to draw him to his feet and swipes at his face with the back of his free hand.</p><p>He is, at least, no longer cold.</p>
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